I Must Be Living Wrong
by gaia's-daughter
Summary: This story takes place after FDTW, and is only how I might see the outcome.Warning: I am an Ericaholic and I make no apologies as such. :
1. Chapter 1

**I MUST BE LIVING WRONG**

**Disclaimer:The characters found herein are the property of Charlaine Harris, and I make no claim toward them. **

_Chapter 1_

He knew.

He had remembered everything. Everything.

He remembered how we had talked, how we had loved, if only for a brief time. He had been _my Viking_. Mine. I almost smiled at my possessiveness. It was akin to every vamp I knew, and what I had abhorred, but it was what I felt. Or rather, _had_ felt about Eric. I had been his lover, and the anchor he had held onto when he had lost his grasp on who and what he was. And how he had held on…

Just the thought of that made me tremble and blush, as I sat alone in my kitchen, bathed in sunshine, my coffee having long since grown cold. I could only think of Eric, his taste, his earthy smell, his touch, the cool glide of his skin against mine as we made love, the amazing light in his eyes when he grew excited…the unexpected warmth in his voice when he laughed.

"Eric." I said his name aloud, and I filled it with all the longing that I had come to know over these last months that had seen me bonded to him by blood in Rhodes, against my will and at the behest of Andre, the Queen of Louisiana's Second and lover. He had been an incredibly ancient and powerful vamp who wanted me to serve him and his Queen, and who didn't give a damn about my life or wishes. Eric had come to rescue me, something he did a lot of, I guess; now that I think about it. He had saved me from Andre, but could not save me from the bonding. It was an intimate tie that now held us together emotionally, and God knows how else, or for how long. After I'd been bonded with Eric, I'd left him and Andre in the stairwell, and had gone from the frying pan to the fire by picking up a soda can that turned out to be a bomb. As Eric had said once, _I must be living wrong. _Anyway, Eric had come to rescue me again, as did Quinn, but I wouldn't let them die for me. I had been frightened nearly out of my life, but nothing had frightened me like servitude to Andre. He was the Bogeyman. _That is a capital "B" as he is old enough to be the monster in the night that gave rise to children's terror all over the world._

The blood-bond between Eric and myself has continued to be a mystery to me. He could send me strength and emotions across it by sheer will, and had. He'd comforted me via it and bolstered me up when I needed it, and I swear that when we were trying to get out of the hotel on the morning of the FotS attack, we had communicated without words. It was like we were one entity working to save his child Pam and ourselves. The FotS fanatics, folks who were the KKK to the supe world, wanted to kill vamps and _tainted_ humans and the Rhodes summit was a bounty for them. When the hotel at Rhodes was blowing up around me, I had gone to wake my Viking and his child, Pam. It was not something that I had to decide to do, it was instinct. I didn't want Eric to die; I wouldn't let him, if there was a way I could save him. I didn't stop to examine my reasons, I simply ran, and I did it. Me. Crazy Sookie Stackhouse. I saved lives that day, both human and supe, and watched as Quinn took one. He killed Andre. He did it so that I would be free of the Bogeyman. Little did he know, that the night always held other terrors, and betrayals. His for instance. Yes, Quinn, my one-time lover-_emphasis on the one_-time-had betrayed the Queen and the Louisiana vamps, and me to that soulless Victor Madden, and his King, Felipe De Castro. Quinn and I had parted company after that as I had no need of his brand of devotion; I would never be first with him, and I could never look at him the same after his betrayal. He had too much baggage-_yes, I said it_- and it came in the form of his crazy mother and his not-too-all-there- sister, Frannie. Quinn had brought Death to my door in the form of Victor and his soldier vamps. It was worse than being staked! _Did I mention that I had been staked when I went in search of my lying ex, Bill, who left me for a vamp ho?_ That's a tale in itself! Anyway, back to Quinn, my grandmother had taught me to turn the other cheek, but I could have died the night of the coup with Eric and my friends, and he would have been partially to blame. I could not forget that. If I were to survive in this life that was now mine, I could not forget such things. _I would not._

The night of the coup, and the betrayal, was the night that Eric had regained his memory of the time he'd been cursed by the witch Hallow, the time he'd spent with me. _What a night, eh?_. He remembered and I panicked and begged off for the time being of the "talk" he said we must have. I was scared, and vulnerable that night, and he had mercy on me. We had plenty of time for a talk, right? We had lived through a coup...

Felipe de Castro. I had hated him because of what he had done. Yet I saved his ass from Sigebert, when he'd been intent on a little payback. Saving the king was only incidental, as my goal was to save Eric, whom Sigebert had chained in silver and was ruthlessly kicking, and slashing at with a huge knife. Sigebert had even tied Sam up, but his attention was on Eric. Sigebert believed Eric to be a traitor and was showing Eric what he believed a traitor deserved. When he dropped trou, and approached my ex-lover with a sadistic look in his eyes, I hit the gas on the only weapon I had, my car, and used it to bring him down. I can still feel the impact of his body hitting my car and rumbling against my car's undercarriage. I'd do it again in a heartbeat. I had saved Eric once more, and he had held me as if I was something precious to him and I had begun to hope. He'd been grateful, if a little embarrassed, that a human girl had saved the badass Sheriff of Shreveport, and a King, no less. When he'd looked into my eyes, there had been a glimpse of _my_ Eric, and something more.

That was weeks ago. Months.

Eric hadn't called, or texted, nor had his beautiful 6'4"Viking body darkened my door, and not even Pam had even bothered to contact me. The hum that I had become accustomed to in the back of my mind, which was him, was muted, nearly silent. It had been that way since the last time we had seen each other at Merlotte's, and he'd told me that the king had offered me his protection in repayment of saving his life. _Yahoo._ Maybe it would keep me from getting beat up again, but somehow I doubted it. He said that he'd call, and we'd talk. Maybe I'm just a fool, but I believed…He'd left me like the others. Had the memory of offering to share everything with me, marry me, been too much in the end when he'd had time to think things over? His silence made me think so.

Granted the new regime was in its infancy with Felipe De Castro in Louisiana and Eric had to make sure that Eric survived. He was good at that, and he when he'd faltered, I had made sure that Eric survived. Fate had thrown us together in such a way, that I thought that we'd actually have a chance. That Fate. She really had a way with her sense of humor. _Biotch_.

How long I sat in the kitchen indulging in my pity party, I don't know. I don't even remember snapping my coffee cup's handle off, or spilling the tepid brew all over Gran's lace tablecloth. _Residuals from the last time I'd had vampire blood, Eric's blood._ I came to myself, blinking away sudden tears, and I got to my feet quickly, emptying what was left in the cup down the sink's drain, and throwing the cup away. I scooped up the tablecloth and ran cold water into the sink, to soak the stain, and placed it in the cool water. The stain would come out and it would be just like new, and I wished I could do the same thing.

II.

"_Eric."_

It was Sookie. _My lover._

His eyelids flickered in the darkness as he heard her voice, felt her anguish, as if it were his own. He stirred restlessly as her acute sense of longing pulled at him across the bond that he'd tried to dampen over the last months. He hadn't wanted her to know what he was feeling, and the intensity of his feelings. What had happened today, to break through his block? Why had she called out for him?

His body moved sluggishly in the darkness, while he fought sleep to hold onto her. _How he missed her!_ He had closed off their tie, as much as he could, and it was a constant drain on his strength to do so. Yet he did it, to preclude her from feeling his nearly savage anger over the attack by the former Queen's bodyguard. He did not like being thought a traitor-he was not. He would have fought to his final death next to his Queen, but why should he sacrifice the life of his bonded, and his people for a fallen empire. He was a survivor and he was battle-tested. He would bide his time, and ensure that his bonded lived and his people survived to fight another day when the gods were more inclined to grant him victory. Until then…

He had stayed away from her, hoping that the interest in her and his relationship with her would wane. Felipe was crafty and he had to be craftier, and the difference might men her life. He would go to his final death to save her, but if he could save her by denying himself her taste, her feel, her warmth, then he would do so. What he hadn't planned on was the way it would change him. He never smiled, and he grew cruel with the fangbanger's who lined up near his throne, and even the boldest of them shrank from his glare. Pam watched him, her eyes wise, concerned. He refused the willing donors who offered their blood and bodies for his use. Felipe's watchdog Sandy often raised an eyebrow at his actions, and he was sure that she reported this to him. He didn't give damn. The men and women who offered themselves were scum, to him. He'd sipped the mead served in Valhalla, why would he be sated with watered down ale? Sookie had been all he'd wanted…

He ached. How he ached for her. His body grew hard in his semi-slumber as that ache traveled the length of him. He needed to know why she'd called him. Against his better judgment, he allowed himself to concentrate on their bond, and seek her out. As if the floodgates had been opened, the incredible warmth of her, her delicious scent, washed over him, her titillating taste leapt against his lips transporting him. His body spasmed and he came hard, crying out her name, breaking the silence of his daychamber.


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2_

I pulled my worn old pink robe tighter, as I made my way down the chilly, windowless hallway to my bedroom. With my eyes intent on the wooden floorboards that creaked familiarly beneath my red wool clad feet, I blocked out thoughts of Eric, vampire politics, and supes in general. I tried to focus on normalcy-_that's a stretch, as I have been called anything but normal by most of the inhabitants of Bon Temps._ I made myself think of mundane things like chores: stacking firewood next to the fireplace, doing my laundry, dusting the furniture and sweeping the floors. Heck, I had enough normal stuff to do to fill a couple of days off from work. Without Amelia here, I could stretch it out, and pace myself. She was a whirling dervish when it came to housework. When she got nervous she cleaned, and I missed her something awful, since she and Octavia had gone down to New Orleans a week ago to sell "harmless" spell-laden trinkets to horny Mardi Gras tourists. There were definitely bound to be some strange happenings in N'awlins this year._Witches! It hadn't even been a moment and I'd fallen back into that "other" way of thinking! I am a lost cause…_

_**Boooommm!**_

There was no preamble, no forewarning, just the feeling of something akin to a door being kicked opened within me-_crazy, huh?-_ and the cool February air rushing in unabated; a sudden blast of winter washing over me, filling me. The warm air left my lungs with a _whoosh_, as the chill claimed the vacated space. I halted, staggering slightly and shivering, as my mind focused on the blood-bond, which I knew was the source of this sudden feeling. I had a moment to register the bond's amazing rush of energy and the coolness radiating through my chest, when the feeling changed and my name reverberated in my head.

"_Sookiiiieeee!"_

It was a lusty shout of satisfaction, which rang out ever so sexily against my mind's inner ear, grabbing my libido and pulling me down onto the soft blankets of memory. My legs gave way beneath me and I slid, boneless, to the cold floor; _he_ did that to me. My body moistened and my mouth went dry while a powerful wave of hot, blinding pleasure hit me in my gut, and _lower_, taking my breath away, and sending my body flying. I closed unseeing eyes, lost myself in his joy, and just let go…

"Sweet Jesus!" I managed, moments later, my body vibrating with the force of _his emotions-_ the flood of pure Viking awareness that I felt. _It was Eric!_ I knew it. I knew _him._ I could taste the wildness of him and I felt the bond nearly singing with his presence, the amazing energy that he gave off. _What had he done? And could he do it again?!_ It never crossed my mind that he was with another-it was broad daylight outside-and why would he share this with me? Eric was many things, but he was not cruel to me.

_But what the heck was going on in Shreveport?!_

_He was still with me_. It had been so long since I had felt Eric in my head, in my body, that I just sat there, enjoying the feel of him, my back pressed against the wall, my mind still dazed, and discombobulated, air moving stertorously from my lungs. Shakily, I ran my hand through my hair fighting to calm myself. As though sensing my upheaval, he responded. I felt Eric's coolness flow into me, this time like a gentle questioning, perhaps unease. Was it _worry_? I don't know how I knew it was, but I felt the prodding along the bond, and could nearly see his eyebrows raised quizzically as he stared at me with concerned eyes, still opaque in desire. _Damn, he was good at this blood-bond thing!_

I hadn't consciously tried to convey emotions through the bond; Rhodes was necessity, and sheer will. This was something else. I concentrated on calmness, my sense of well-being, and despite my desire to shut it out, my longing for him slipped into my head and tangled into emotions that coursed through me and _out _to him.

The answering flow was warm, caressing, and tinged with the same strength he'd sent me in Rhodes during the trial. However, I felt his hunger for me, as if it was a tangible thing-_he lived with sex on the brain_. Then my awareness of him abated, and that peaceful _hum _that was him in slumber echoed in my head. I smiled, and let myself be happy for a while-_yep, despite my nay-saying, this bond made me happy_; _it was still there, and more importantly, Eric missed me. He wasn't indifferent as I'd believed._

That knowledge carried me through my self-appointed chores, and somewhere in the middle of them, as I shook out the rug in front of the fireplace, I decided that I would go take the bull by the horns, _or the Viking by the horns_, as it were. I'd swallow my pride and go to Fangtasia. Heck, Eric had had more time to work at being stubborn than I had, and I was not going to win at that every time with him. You had to pick your battles, after all, time was on his side.

***

I took my time with my appearance, as I wanted to look great without appearing to have spent hours primping for him, even though I did. _Yeah, I'm a girl._ I washed my hair with an herbal scented shampoo that I knew Eric liked and blow-dried it into a golden mane that I left loose about my shoulders and I did my nails and polished them a deep crimson. _Yeah, he liked that, too. _I'd showered and scrubbed my skin to the point it was as soft as a baby's bottom, and added an expensive perfumed body lotion, _Euphoria,_ that had been an impulse buy at Christmas. It was so unlike me, but I had loved the scent, and the name. I thought it was fate, too, because it was the word of the day, on my calendar, and I had been feeling anything but _euphoria,_ at the prospect of a lonely Christmas.

_He's up._

I could feel the dull hum of the bond become a deeper vibration, and it felt good; I felt good. I glanced over at the clock, and marked the time at 6:15. The sun had set a few minutes ago and it was beginning to get dark.

My thoughts whirred with activity. I put on pretty underwear, not that I planned on anyone seeing it, but just for me. _That's my story and I'm sticking to it._ I squeezed my natural bounty into a soft crimson sweater, and slipped on, or rather tugged on, a pair of low rise jeans that did mad things for my behind, and allowed one to glimpse my flat, remnant-of- a-tan -having –stomach when I walked. A pair of black boots and I was ready to go.

An hour or so later, I pulled on my cranberry coat, while singing off-key to Buckcherry's _Don't Go Away_. The song had popped into my head, and I couldn't get it off my mind; I wasn't doing it justice, because I can't sing a lick. However, at this moment, it didn't matter; I just felt good-great-charged up, even. So I belted out the lyrics:

_Please don't go away  
You're making a mistake  
You and I were meant to be  
You opened up my eyes  
And made me realize  
Now its changing everything  
It's crazy how I feel this way  
I can't explain don't go away-_

I had a moment to register the source of my happiness before I stuck my courage to the sticking place, _wherever that was_, and opened the door.

He filled the doorway; all wondrous-six-foot-four-something-of–a-gorgeous-Viking, with long, thick blond hair that whipped about in the brisk play of the night wind, and made him look like he belonged on one of the covers of those romances that Claude and I had posed for a while back. Our eyes met, and I, who was immune to glamour, was as susceptible as the next girl to the sensuous promises in the blue depths of his eyes. _The truth was, that Eric could back up every one of them, and then some!_ And as if he could read _my_ mind-_could he?-_ he gave me a slow, suggestive wink, leaned his head indolently against the doorjamb, and crossed his black leather-clad arms against his broad chest.

Released, my eyes skittered to safety, and I focused on his muscular, white throat before taking in his thick, navy, cable sweater, stretched taut over his chest, mid-rise stone-washed jeans that snugly covered the _gracious plenty_ and legs that went on forever, and ended in black blunt-toed leather boots. Yes, I got a lot in a glance, before desire sent my mind south. I think I gaped at him like an idiot for a moment. _O.k., maybe a few moments!_

"Ugh…" _Now that was eloquent._

_He couldn't be more devastating,_ I thought, and then he was, because he gave me that slow grin of his, that reflected in his sparkling blue eyes and turned my legs to Jell-o …_ah, damn._

"Hello, my lover." His voice smoldered, as he showed a little fang, and I was wet and ready to jump him on cue. His eyes darkened, and his pupils dilated. _Yeah, he knew._

Slowly, deliberately, Eric leaned in to me, breathing in my scent as he, like the most adoring feline, rubbed his cheek against mine, a satisfied _purr _rumbling through his chest, and making me curl my toes. _How I'd missed that sound._ His cool lips lightly grazed my cheek, as he turned his head, and slid his face into my hair. I stood there, immobile, breathless. My chest as still as his_. Oh God, how did he do that? _He made me weak, made my body a traitor to my brain, my hootchie, a wanton beggar at his feast.

I didn't realize that I had closed my eyes, and drifted towards him, or that my lips had parted of their own accord until he said with a slight chuckle, "Close your mouth, my lover, and let me in."

His laughter was like cold water, and I opened my eyes wide, shut my mouth, reined in my libido, and attempted coherent thought, and speech. "Eric, what…what are you doing _here?" That was weak, but it would do._

His beautiful eyes searched mine, before he glanced down at my lips, his long blond lashes, nearly touching his white cheeks, as he trailed the back of his fingers against the line of my jaw in a caress that threatened my sanity, once more.

"You called and I _came_," he whispered huskily.

_Yes, he did! Now didn't that just say it all? Eric had quite the sense of humor._


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: The characters found herein are the property of Charlaine Harris, and I make no claim toward them. **

_**A/N: This chapter is rated M. **_

_Chapter 3_

There was that smile, again, on the heels of his words that tingled along my spine: "You called and I _came_." This time, it was toothier, and I sensed the rise of the predator in him, and it excited me, rather than frightened or repelled me_. I'd have to think about this later._ _But right now…_The air practically crackled with energy between us! I stumbled slightly, as I stepped back to let him in. His hand shot out to grasp my waist, vampire fast, and steady me. _Steady? He shook me up and damned if he didn't know it. _Again, that rakish smile that bordered on a leer.

The door closed behind him and I don't know if I did it or he did. I struggled to gather my wits-_they had to be around here somewhere-_and act like I had the sense that God gave me, as Gran would say. Eric had a way of making that a difficult task.

He still held me, and I was all too aware of his thumb that had absently begun to stroke the bare skin above my hipbone, his long fingers that teased the skin above my behind, and just beneath my sweater. It felt so good, so incredibly good. The bond between us began to respond to our closeness, the flurry of emotions swirling between us, with pulses of heat, that seemed to keep time with my heart. I went to step away, and put some thinking distance between us, but Eric's grip tightened, pre-empting any movement on my part. His eyes practically danced with mischief as he raised an eyebrow, and slowly waggled the index finger of his free hand from right to left in front of me.

"No. There'll be none of that," he warned me. His big hand left my hip and slid up inside my coat, as he eased me closer to him, his eyes never leaving my face, his nostrils flaring, as he inhaled my scent. When I was a step away from him, both hands reached for the lapels of my coat, grasping it and lifting it free of me. He tossed it over the back of a chair, and with movements that I couldn't track, his leather coat joined it. His eyes flickered over me, lingering on the rise and fall of my breasts beneath the clingy sweater, I wore. He took a _breath, _before his gaze snared mine, his eyes smoky, his lids heavy with lust.

"Eric…I… I was just leaving--" I protested, as I bit nervously into the fullness of my bottom lip, tasting blood. _Oh, no…_ His eyes followed the gesture, and he tensed, his nostrils flaring, once again.

"Not anymore."

"I was coming to see you." _Pointless, but I said it anyway._

"I'm here." _You think!_

"We should talk," I insisted.

"Later," he promised, as he closed the gap between us, his body fitting into mine, with remembered ease, his fingers running along the backs of my hands. I should have been afraid. _Crazy Sookie, here._ Fear never entered my mind. There was only Eric and the things that I knew he could do to me…had done to me. His hands came up unhurriedly, sliding achingly slow along the outside of my arms. I trembled, my lips parting slightly, my nipples hardening. _Mmmm. _He leaned his forehead against mine, his silken hair brushing my cheeks. Cool hands slipped along the length of my throat, the nape of my neck, to dive into the thick sweep of hair at the back of my head. He tugged, bringing my head back slightly and I moaned. He leant down, swiftly, swallowing the sound with his kiss.

His tongue darted into my mouth, tasting, seeking, rediscovering, arousing. _Ah, he could kiss_!

_Oh, Lord, he could kiss. _He twirled his tongue with ease about mine, teasing, and tormenting for what seemed like sweet forever. I sighed against his lips, as something in my lower belly gave way, and I began to tremble in earnest. Yet the kiss went on, his lips slanting hungrily over mine, his tongue eliciting soft moans, from deep in my throat. My tongue rose to join his in its sensual play, darting and diving, against his until he groaned in response, the rumble moving through his chest into mine. I felt both powerful, and weak, as I melted against him, and my arms went about him, my nails digging into the thickness of the sweater at his back. He made an indiscernible noise and rocked his hips into me. There was no doubt that Eric was feeling what I was feeling, he was hard, and straining against the zipper of his jeans.

My heart pounded in my chest, and our bond was suffused with heat and lust- his, mine, ours-_who knew!_ My one truth, was that I was on fire and he'd only kissed me. At this rate, I'd be ashes before we got to third base! His lips left mine to skim over my jaw, and blaze a hot trail down to the deep hollow of my throat, where my pulse throbbed wildly for him. I tilted my head to give him better access, and his tongue flicked out, licking tiny circles that burned along my sensitive skin. _Burned_?

My eyes flew open, and I called his name. I could feel him smiling, his beautiful lips curling against me, as he began to nip at my throat, his fangs lightly grazing my skin. I choked on his name as I called out to him again.

"Er-ic! Wait, wait…"

His head rose slowly, his nose nuzzling my hair, before his eyes, mere slits of dark blue in his white face, met mine. _He was pure Sex; I could see it, I could taste it, and I was going to feel it!_ He shook his head slightly and his blond hair shimmered in the light. "No more waiting, my lover," he ground out hoarsely; his lips finding the shell of my ear, and making me shudder. He licked the lobe and blew gently on it, shooting lightening through me. I inhaled sharply, air backing up roughly in my lungs. He left my ear bereft, and covered my mouth once more with his, sucking my tongue into its _hot _depths. Eric was as warm as I was! Yet I couldn't dwell on this providence, because the erotic pull of his mouth, took every thought I'd had from my head, except the feel of him, the seductive taste of him. His hands left my hair, and were everywhere at once, stroking, teasing, squeezing, outrunning my senses, and leaving me achingly aroused, and dazed. I grabbed a ragged breath as my sweater zipped over my head, and was thrown-God knows where- while he walked us backward into the living room wall, stretching my arms out above my head, pinning my wrists to the wall with one hand. His free hand trailed over my breasts, tweaking the hardened peaks and traveling lower over my belly. My stomach muscles shivered beneath the warmth of his hand. It all just felt so good; I shut my eyes against the rising wave of pleasure in me.

"Look at me, Sookie," he rasped. My eyelids were heavy in desire, but I did as he commanded-_I was his and he knew it-_ he lowered his head to a lace covered breast, his tongue darting out to trace the skin just beneath the fabric's edge, then lower still, where he twirled his heated tongue around my eager nipple. I hummed in pleasure and squirmed against him, my hips grinding along his gracious plenty, which leapt in fervent response. He growled, his fangs running out as he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment in pure delight, then smiling wickedly up at me through his lashes, he subjected the other breast to the same treatment, again, and again. I moaned and I moaned, and it only fed his lust.

My bra fell away. It was there and then it wasn't, yet I never felt the chill, because his lips covered my left breast and his huge hand palmed the other. He rolled a bud between his thumb and forefinger, and used his teeth to edge the other, followed by his tongue. Closing his lips upon my breast, he sucked powerfully, pulling my entire nipple into his mouth. My body shook as I came apart in his arms, his name, heavy on my lips, pleasure rippling out from my womb in little waves, my toes curling in my boots. My legs gave way, and my body threatened to slide into a heated puddle on the floor, but he held me up, bracing his body against mine, readying me for more.

The bond leapt and sparkled like a live thing, drawing out the pleasure that rushed through me.

Eric let my hands slide free, and I grasped his shoulders roughly, when I felt his fangs pierce my breast. A noise caught in my throat as his lips tugged in earnest at my tender flesh and my blood swirled warmly into his mouth, down his throat. He groaned in ecstasy as if it was the best thing he'd ever tasted, and the bond exploded with a heat which rushed through me again, flooding my senses, making my body spasm with pleasure in time to Eric's. By the dazed look in his eyes I knew he felt it, too.

"Oh, God!" I cried and held on.

He lifted me then, unsteadily, his hands coming up to cup my bottom while I wrapped my legs around his waist, my arms rushing to circle his neck. "Where-" he rumbled. His control slipping, and the beast that lay beneath the surface, rising…_I was okay with that._

"The bed…" I told him.

"Too far," he declared. There was a sensation of movement, and then he set me down and quickly stripped me-it always amazed me how he could do that-and I found myself being lowered onto the rug before the fireplace. He towered, like a vengeful god above me, for a few moments, and I promised myself that I'd do whatever penance he wanted, if I could just feel him inside me. _Now! _He shrugged off his sweater in a blur, and held my gaze as he toed off his boots, shoved his jeans down and kicked them aside, leaving himself naked and beautiful before me. He gave me a moment to look, and I couldn't close my eyes if I wanted to. I think I gulped… audibly, because he smiled and angled that lovely butt of his into my view. Did I say he was beautiful? He was magnificent! _And he was mine. _

He fell to his knees beside me, one muscular arm on either side of me. I came up to meet him, slipping a hand to the back of his head, threading my fingers through his silky hair, and seeking out his lips with mine. I ran my tongue the length of his lips, pointedly stroking his fangs, and letting my free hand pinch his male nipples in the way I knew he liked. He hissed against my open mouth, and his hand swept the length of me from breast to thigh, stroking and teasing until reaching my center, now slick with need. His thumb stroked my nub before his fingers glided into me; I raised my hips to meet the swift rhythm that they set. His lips found my ear, his hot tongue sliding inward, his breath caressing the lobe. He was driving me crazy, pushing me to the edge. It wasn't enough, I needed _him. I wanted him. _I reached down between us, finding and stroking the heavy length of him into greater hardness, making him gasp, and buck against my hand. His fingers slipped out of me, as he drew me onto his lap, up against his erection, my legs circling him. His tongue ran out to meet mine, before he caught me up in another mind blowing kiss.

Our lips parted a breath, and his desperately whispered, "Sookie!" shook me as he lifted me and brought me down on him in a slow rush. I realized that I had waited months for this, and I threw my head back, biting back the scream that longed to burst free. I felt him pause, and shift me upwards, before inching me back down, and filling me entirely. _Oh, yes_. _Oh, yes. Oh, yes_. We sat there for a moment, our eyes meeting in the lull before the storm, the bond expanding, straining to contain everything that we pumped into it; it fairly sang.

He shifted me backwards onto the rug, one arm beneath my shoulders, one large hand supporting my butt, his body still buried deep within mine. He smiled, as I dug my nails into his awesome behind, knowing how much I loved it. I smiled back at him, my heart expanding with feelings for him.

And then he moved. _My God, how he moved._

_Non compos mentis _Eric had filled me with wonder, but _compos mentis _Eric, with the assistance of the blood-bond, took me to another state entirely. He held my gaze, as he latched onto my breast, not biting, but suckling deeply and rocking his hips slowly into mine while his hot length slid purposefully within me, each glide sweeter than the last. He treated the other breast to the same attention as he searched for his remembered niche within me, purring deeply as he found it. I used my muscles, clinching tightly about him, and moaning with every stroke, rising to meet him, though it drove him deeper within me, stretching me to my limits. He grunted in echoing satisfaction, his arm trembling beneath my shoulders, as he swelled within me, dragging me closer and closer to the edge. Pleasure shimmered through me, and into him, and his deep shiver was evidence that he'd felt it. His eyes grew wilder, the blue obscured by his dilated pupils, the whites so bright they shone. He freed my breast in the next instant, then he reached for my leg in the other and lifted it over his forearm, driving into me faster and deeper, each stroke increasing the sweet build-up inside me, inside us. When he shifted his hips, mid-stroke, the amazing friction took my breath away, my eyes lost focus, and I succumbed, slipping over the edge, the incredibly delicious feeling bursting within me as I screamed his name for all I was worth. Lights blazed all about me, blinding me as he plunged into me once more, bucking roughly and sliding over the edge after me; my voice was lost in his roar, and my body shot through with the strength of his orgasm, the feel of his fangs sinking into my breast. I held onto him, the room falling away, just as he clung to me and let himself go…


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thanks for all the encouragement and feedback. Viking goodness is always on my mind, and your comments are always welcome.

Chapter 4

He came to slowly, realizing with chagrin, that a _petit mort_, of all things, had rendered him almost human, and he'd fallen asleep immediately after sex. Granted, it had been the most intense orgasm he'd ever had, and that was saying quite a lot, when one had lived over a thousand years. _Sookie would never let him forget that!_ His only hope was that she'd fallen asleep first. It would be worse than him telling her that she was the best he'd ever had, when he was under that damned curse of that Were-Witch, Hallow.

Old news. The witch was dead. He was alive, although he'd wager he's just been fucked pretty close to his final death. He never thought he'd smile at that, but he did. He even laughed.

In the flickering light of the dying fire, he shifted his head, his lover's familiar scent filling his nostrils, along with a new perfume he found he liked; it was expensive, and he was pleased that she'd indulged for him. Delighting in the smell and the feel of her, he rubbed his cheek against her bare skin, as he nestled deeper into the softness of her breasts. He could not think of a better place to be, as he lay, his body prone, a dead weight upon her. Could he be any other weight, he mused. Beneath his ear, her heart beat in a steady cadence that told him that she still slept. It was a delicious sound and paired with the blood meandering through her veins and rushing through her arteries, intoxicating, nearly irresistible. His fangs ran out, and he wanted to drink from her again, but tamped down that urge. Raising himself, he transferred his weight to his elbows, as he eased his body from the tight sheath of hers, groaning as a frisson of pleasure shot through him, stiffening his cock with need once again. He bit his lip and fought the urge to drive forward, claiming her once more. Instead, he dipped his head and let his mouth drift over the tip of a pert breast, his lips open, his tongue stiff and teasing, as it wetly circled her areola. He blew gently, watching entranced, as her nipple tightened just before his lips closed about it and he sucked hardily. She stirred beneath him, her heartbeat stuttering, before increasing its pace. He tugged again, rolling the thickening tip against the edge of his teeth, watching her face flush as she came fully awake with a strangled moan. _He lived for this._

The bond quivered anew and began to swell between them. However, he was ready for that heady feeling which it imparted when it sang with their mutual lust, their confused and unsettled emotions and feelings. It was almost primitive, and it made him want to do bad things to her that they'd both enjoy…_Bad, _after all_,_ was surely relative…

Her blue eyes clouded with renewed desire for him, as she watched him, their eyes meeting as he dove to capture her other breast in his lips, pulling it upwards with a bob of his head. Her lips parted, and she arched against him, and the sound of his name on her lips made him nearly rough, as a sharp pang of need rocketed through his belly. He gave her breast a sharp nip with his teeth, that set her in motion again, and then he leaned forward on his elbows, and captured her lips with his, sinking down in a kiss that brought her hands tangling in his hair, and her toes curling against the rug.

She was sweet, _his Sookie_. _So sweet._

He savored the kiss, as he drank her in, licking and nibbling her lips, devouring her moans, the urgent little noises in her throat that sparkled like nectar, the finest mead on his thirsty tongue. In the back of his mind, he heard himself humming with pleasure with each sip of her. He wanted more, and breaking the kiss, his lips skimmed greedily over her face, her hair, her ears. He licked and nibbled down her throat, across her shoulder, while he rubbed his chest against the tips of her breasts, his cock against her stomach. He wanted to rub himself all over her, and he would, too. As many times as he wanted to._ Was the night long enough?_

She writhed beneath him, chanting his name, rousing him further, and he teetered on a fine line, the ferocity in him barely held at bay. Her legs curled about him, her left foot sliding against his calf, as her hips ground restlessly against him. She ran her nails from his behind up to the small of his back, and then down again. She leaned into him, and he felt her licking him, her tongue making long sweeping motions along his throat, the back of his shoulder. He paused, reveling in the sensation, silently asking her not to stop. She didn't. She licked some more and then she ran her teeth over the ridge of his throat and bit down, drawing blood, and pulling on the tiny wounds she'd made. Something in him shifted, and the power in him surged, as a tidal wave of pleasure rolled through him. He grew harder, and he turned to her, swiftly, surprising her, taking her lips again, tasting his blood on them, and thrusting his tongue deep within her mouth, wanting to leave her in no doubt of what he intended for the rest of her body.

She was his bonded. All of her. _His. _

He growled and reached between them, his fingers gliding into the molten heat of her, as he held her eyes with his. She was ready for him, and he rose above her, pushing into her, even as he struggled to remember she was mortal. He immersed himself in her to the fullest, bringing their bodies together with a gentle slap, that thrilled him. Somewhere in the distance, he heard her cry out, knowing that it wasn't with pain, but pleasure. The same pleasure, that pooled in his loins, seeking release, completion. He lifted her hips and drove into her, silently calling her to his rhythm, to the need that pulsed in him, in her. He _called _to her, body to body, mind to mind-he gave it his all… He was Master.

She heeled. She _heeled_ just fine.

II.

I awoke, what seemed like hours later, naked and slightly disoriented. Heck, I was wholly disoriented! I blinked several times and flushed to the roots of my hair as the last three hours came back to me, and the heavy arm around my waist made sense. Eric. What had he done to me? And how many times had we done it? My body was blissfully sore and more relaxed than it had been in ages. Eric, I thought again. Talk about the devil… to think his name, was to call him; he moved behind me, all of him coming awake.

"Lover," he whispered, nuzzling my hair, purring softly and trailing a hand down my side. I shivered, and not entirely from the cold. Eric had pulled the quilt over us, but I wasn't worried about blankets, now. Neither was he. Lifting the covers slightly, he rolled me over onto my back, threw a heavy leg across me, leaving his gracious plenty butting cheerfully against my hip. He leered knowingly at me, when I gasped softly; I don't care how many times you saw or felt it, it always gave you a shock, then a thrill. He propped himself up an elbow, cupping his face in his palm, his hair a heavy curtain against my pillow. He was clearly waiting on me to say something, his contented eyes fairly laughing, his restless hand straying under the quilt.

"Eric," I began, smacking his hand away, and garnering a chuckle from him. Despite the fact that he'd just rocked my world, I wanted to know what had taken him so long. I could have spread tonight's sexing out over the last couple of months, easy.

"Where the hell have you been?" I demanded.

He laughed even harder, roared even, throwing his head back. "_Ah, sookie, now_…"


	5. Chapter 5

**I Must Be Living Wrong**

Disclaimer: The characters used herein belong exclusively to Charlaine Harris, and they are just playing in my sandbox for a short time.

A/N: My thanks to everyone who has sent messages, given reviews, and/or read _I Must Be Living Wrong. _It's been wonderful hearing from you. I hope you continue to enjoy my efforts.

_____________________________________________________________________

Chapter 5

Eric was a riot! He said the most unexpected things sometimes, and his command of the local vernacular was impressive, and a testament to the adept predator he was. Know your prey-_Vampire 101._ Blend in…But "_Ah, sookie, now?" _I couldn't stop myself from laughing with him. He had jokes, this one thousand plus year old Viking sex addict. His surprising sense of humor was one of the things I liked about him; well, that, his award-winning butt, and the fact that he _got _me. And when he laughed like this, in the intimacy of my room, and my bed, he was irresistible. _Did I stand a chance? Had I ever?_

"You should laugh more, my lover," he told me, as he caught me up into another kiss that began teasingly with just an enticing brush of his lips against mine, the soft glide of his tongue around mine. He perused my mouth as if he had all the time in the world, and he'd discovered a remembered delicacy he thought never to sample again. And then as mercurial as Eric himself, the kiss changed, and was rolling into me, hard and demanding, his lips plundering, taking everything I had, until he robbed me of thought, and left my mind muzzy, my lips bruised and wanting…

_Eric was truly gifted, no doubt about it._

When he broke the kiss, slightly tugging at my lower lip until I opened my eyes, my body was quivering and his eyes were sultry, and at half mast. He settled his head onto his arm on the pillow beside me, our eyes near level, mere inches apart. With a low growl, he tucked his body even more tightly into my curves, his gracious plenty declaring its _joy _at our proximity, and its willingness to pick up where the kiss had left off. Almost absently his hips moved against me, and I closed my eyes for a second, enjoying the heavy intimate feel of him. In my hazy state, he overwhelmed me, and his left arm went around my waist, his hand palming the outline of my hip beneath the cover, his thumb tenderly stroking the ridge of the bone. _Yum…_

Eric had never made a secret of his desire for me. He wanted to be as close as possible to me, it seems, when he wasn't trying to _get in_ me, that is. He often caught me off-guard with a gentle stroke of his hands against my bare skin, or that cat-like rub of his cheek against mine that was usually accompanied by a contented purr. The crazy thing is that I had come to like it, too- long for it, even. How I had missed it…him…

I reached up and tucked a lock of his long hair behind his ear, letting my hand linger along his hair-roughened jawline. The bond between us was invitingly warm, and replete with a sense of lazy satisfaction-_that would be me_. The other emotions were harder to distinguish, but anxiety, and an edgy hunger, filtered through. _Eric, of course._

Damn it, he was distracting me! Sneaky bastard. I sobered, frowning slightly. He'd sexed me up for hours and was still angling for more; no wonder I couldn't think properly! My question had been: Where the hell was he the last few months? He needed to answer that and what was up with: _I should laugh more?_ Life hadn't given me much to cackle about, these last few years, outside of tonight, and a few brief moments in between- many with Eric; betrayal has a way of taking the laughter right out of you, and spoiling the memories.

Eric watched me intently, as my thoughts paraded across my features and he moved his hand upward to smooth away the frown lines on my forehead, his touch tender, feather-light. It was almost hypnotic…

"You try getting shot, clawed, staked, beaten, kicked, drained, mauled, and nearly burnt alive and then we'll talk about "happy" Sookie," I countered. Not to mention nearly blown up, I added silently. His eyebrows rose and his eyes narrowed as he _hrumphed_. Was that even a word? It was definitely the noise he made. "I would have been _happier _if I had known what was going on with you."

His nose went up slightly and the arrogant Viking surfaced. _There's my boy. _"Sookie, you seem to be a magnet for creatures with violent tendencies and grudges. I've never seen one human so ill-used by Fate. I've lived relatively unscathed this last century, until I met you, of course. You've added a lot of excitement to my life and we must be certain to pay your insurance premiums on time, my lover. As for what was happening with me, I was about the business of staying alive and keeping my people so."

No he didn't.

It was hard to fight all cozied up as we were, but I intended to give it a shot, tilting my head back slightly. There were some things that still smarted like hell, and he'd unintentionally hit on one. "I'm so glad that being around me has spiced things up for you Eric!" He smiled and rocked his hips into me, and I stuttered. "I...I wasn't an insurance nightmare, Mr. High and Mighty, until I got mixed up with Bill and you all. I had never even been to the hospital! I got in my first fight the night I met Bill, and then I got nearly killed the next. I should have caught on then, and stayed the hell away from y'all. Who knew getting my butt kicked would have been the start of a trend!"

"You wouldn't have met me. Or at least, not for awhile," he offered soothingly, dangling his words as though they were a treat, and rubbing his gracious plenty against me-_definitely a treat!_

_Not biting_. I was warming up. "And what has that got me? You didn't even want to face me after you found out you'd offered to marry me-a human-and give up being the Sheriff of Area 5. I haven't heard from you. You left me just like Bill did…" As soon as the words passed my lips, I knew I'd said too much.

Did I say that Eric was mercurial? I did not do him justice.

His face darkened, all playfulness gone, and he rose swiftly and leaned over me in the bed, placing a hand to either side of my head. He lowered his head and bared his fangs. "Lover, _he _and I are Vampire; there it ends. Do not presume that because Bill once shared your bed, that we are similar. I have been honest with you, and rest assured that I would never simper about you like a whipped dog for your attention." He paused letting his words sink in, my mind absorb the anger that was pinging off the bond, and him.

"You _are_ human, and your mortality, disturbing. Yet, I have never left you, though I could have, and perhaps should have." He shook his head as though he were trying to make the thought go away. "I chose to be with you, yet you have chosen others over me, again and again. No more."

He was right, but I was kind of mad right, now. How dare he get fangy with me! "You didn't step up to the plate, Eric, and I didn't want to be alone! Caring about me was beneath you."

He glowered at me and practically snarled. "Step up to the plate? What is this plate? If I hadn't cared for you, you'd be a memory right now, dear one, or in thrall to every deviant desire of Andre's. And if you didn't care, I would have died in the Pyramid of Gizeh hotel. But instead of talking to me about the why's, you do this-attempt to anger me! Or you waste your emotions on other, lesser men, mere physical distractions, and find it necessary to spout this bullshit about plates when things get tough and I want to talk about us."

"Us? We haven't been us since you regained your memory! That's it, Eric. Let me up." I was shaking and I didn't care about the truth in his words. I scooted up in the bed and pushed against his rock-hard chest, the quilt gripped tightly in one hand, as I attempted to cover myself. He didn't even try to peek; I was definitely in trouble.

He didn't move.

I shoved again, and the bond went ballistic. I was bombarded with a wave of unmistakable anger, and I knew a moment of fear, before I responded with a little anger of my own.

I said the only thing I could think of to get rid of an angry vampire, though I was torn due to the way my body still echoed with his touch. "I rescind your invitation."


	6. Chapter 6

**I Must Be Living Wrong**

Disclaimer: The characters used herein belong exclusively to Charlaine Harris, and they are just playing in my sandbox for a short time.

Chapter 6

I waited.

His eyebrows shot up, and his face turned to stone, but nothing else happened. He didn't go hurtling backwards, he didn't leave. He couldn't have been more smug, if he had tried. He only smiled. His smile was dangerous, and I flinched inwardly. I was beginning to piss him off.

"Something, I forgot to tell you, my lover. That doesn't work anymore. The blood-bond, and all…Now, that you have got that out your system, we are going to finish this!" he promised.

Gotcha! His whole demeanor said to me.

Okay. Okay. Yikes! So no flying out of the house for Eric, it seemed. I scooted backwards against the headboard, and he let me. He was totally in charge and by the curl of his lips, and the glint in his eyes, it was obvious that he knew it.

I tried a different tack. "Eric, if we're going to talk, can we do it out of bed?" I inflected just the right combination of deference and resignation into my voice. I wanted more neutral territory around us if indeed we were to have the "talk."

"We are going to talk, lover, and no, we are going to do it right here. It will not take long." However, he straightened up, and flipped the quilt away from him. I grasped it and I pulled it to me as I drew my knees up to my chest, hurriedly putting some space between us. He was on his feet in a blur, and pacing next to the bed, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, his beautiful muscles rippling in the glow of the single candle. He was awesome, but I couldn't think of that now. He whipped about to face me, all sexy and forbidding. If I wasn't so mad, I'd have jumped him; my body knew exactly what it wanted to do, it was my mind that kept vacillating.

"You're afraid," he whispered, "and you should be." His eyes shot little sparks in my direction. No need to tell me twice. My eyes grew round as saucers. Note to self: do not antagonize Eric.

He ran a hand through his mane of hair, his eyes never leaving mine. "I have been through all manner of hell these past months as I have had to try and push thoughts of being with you aside and concentrate on keeping myself, those who owe me fealty _and_ you alive a little bit longer. Do not think for once that Felipe has forgotten you or what brought you to our aid. You should fear what manner of use he might find for you without me there to temper things. Felipe and his minions have given me very little peace, and have watched me as though they believed I would lead a revolt any moment." I swore that I could almost hear him whisper, "In time," but the fury coming off him and his desire for violence, made me unsure and I was just glad it was not directed at me. At least, I didn't think so.

"My actions and thoughts of you have had to be guarded closely. If I could have come to you without bringing you harm, I would have, at first. Then I thought that to see you would just visit more harm upon you. Believe me when I tell you that I wanted nothing more than to come to you, and fuck you and taste you and try to make sense of all these things I have been feeling! And then you called me…and I had to come." He had my rapt attention and my fingers relaxed against the quilt. He could take your breath away without even trying, yet he had admitted that I held some power over him, and I thrilled to that knowledge.

As though sensing the change in me-_yes, he could_- he came towards me slowly, and sat next to me on the bed. He reached out and stroked my cheek with the back of his hand and a calm found its way through the swirl of anger in the bond. _How did he do that? _"I _wanted_ to see you-I was not abandoning you. I wanted to talk about Rhodes and the time that I had stayed here with you. I wanted to speak of the night you rescued me from Sigebert, though it galls me to no end."

It was my turn to knit my brows at him. "My saving you seems to really bother you…"

"Your risking your mortal life bothers me. Especially as you won't tell me why you do this?"

Oh, no. Here it was. The Big Money question, that I avoided answering even when I lay alone in my bed at night. I looked away, and he placed two fingers beneath my chin and turned me so that I faced him, and I had to look at those beautiful sapphire eyes that sparkled in the muted light of my room. "Tell me, Sookie, why you would do this for me," he whispered, hoarsely, and I felt his voice like a caress gliding along my spine. He'd gone from angry fiend to sexy beast in minutes and I was having a hard time keeping up with him.

"We're friends, Eric and I…" He didn't let me finish as he cut across my attempt at avoidance.

"Sookie, lover, you had friends in Rhodes. You did not personally rush through an exploding building and fight to wake them, though any moment you could be killed. Bonded or not, you would have been free of me, like you are free of Andre. Do not insult my intelligence…Again, I ask you…why?"

His face was so close to mine, I could feel his cool breath play against my parted lips. I was trembling something awful. I wanted to run, and I wanted to stay. I wanted to tell him that I was his, but I wanted to still belong to myself. Instinctively, I knew he knew how I felt about him-he just wanted the power that the words gave him when spoken aloud.

He watched the warring thoughts play out on my face. He didn't push, he just waited for me to gather myself and answer him. My heart started to quicken its beat and his eyes became more alert, his fangs ran lower. Nervously, I licked my lips. His eyes swept downward, and his tongue mirrored the motion. _Oh, God…_

"Eric," I began, as his eyes met mine again, now, luminous, impatient, wanting.

"Say it," he demanded softly, as he pulled the quilt down from my body, and threw it aside. I made no move to cover myself; his voice held me, and all I could do was shake like a leaf on a tree. Or like that antelope, from the theory we'd kicked back and forth when he stayed with me. The one, that was being stalked by a deviant lion, who hadn't gotten the memo about the laws of the jungle. Eric didn't care about the laws; well, most of them anyway.

"Tell me why you came back for me, my lover, why you tremble in my arms when I hold you and make love to you, and push me away when I ask for answers." He pressed an open-mouthed kiss against the outside of my drawn up knees, and warmth suffused my body. _Oh, damn…he's doing it again._

I was silent, if you didn't count the racket from the galloping of my heart, or the racing of my pulse.

"Do you want me to tell you what I believe, my lover?" he murmured, leaning over so that he could whisper against my ear, making me shudder, my body come alive again with instant arousal, my nipples tighten, painfully. _Yeah, go for my weakness._ His nose nuzzled my hair, touched the shell of my ear, burrowing below it. Unhurriedly, he sucked my earlobe into his mouth, biting down gently. _Oh. Oh. Oh_. I moaned and he let go…gradually. I felt his cool lips trailing down my throat, and his next words were whispered against my heated skin, my charging pulse.

"I think you love me, dear one," he rasped out, letting the tips of his fingers trickle down my bare thigh, his nails rake back upward. I nearly came apart, my hands reaching for his shoulders. He was faster, much faster. He grasped my hands in mid-air and held them away from him, although he knew I longed to touch him, pull him into me.

He shook his head. "Not yet…you have something to tell me, and I will wait no longer. Say it."


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: The characters found herein are the property of Charlaine Harris, and I make no claim toward them. **

_**A/N: It seems that many of us share the same view of Eric, and I'd like to thank you all for your comments, PM's and reviews. You made me laugh, and I hope that I entertained you as well. As always, please enjoy…**_

_**This chapter is rated M. **_

**Chapter 7**

He wanted an answer. Now.

My mind raced.

I thought about keeping mum, and being stubborn and safe. I had too much to risk; too much to lose again. Despite what Eric said, my thoughts went to Bill and how he'd played me, when I was with him. First it had been the Queen's mission and then Lorena and the pension. I had been stupid and naïve and so entranced with the quiet and tranquility that accompanied the Vampire mind, that I forgot that his was still a _male's _mind, whether I could hear it or not. I had been starved for acceptance and affection and he'd lead me along a trail of breadcrumbs to his bed. Bill had taken so much from me; he'd taken all the love I gave and then he'd taken my pride with his lies. In the trunk of that car in Jackson, he'd taken by force everything that I had willingly given once upon a time; that was a deep, private hurt that made me unwilling to move forward, trust fully. Even though I had made excuses for him, tucked it away, and never spoke of it, it had left its mark. The fairytale wasn't supposed to end that way…I had to let that go, if there was any hope for me, any hope for something real.

Was that _something real_ this thousand year old, golden Viking vampire, beautiful and naked in my bed, and holding onto me right now? _Reality has always been different for me, I guess_. Real or not, Eric was here and needed me to make a choice; he _demanded _that I make a choice, and he would not accept prevarication, or delay. If his steely glare, or the tight set of his mouth, that brooked no argument, was anything to go by, time was short. Even the bond between us that a minute ago had been pulsing with lust, was now cool, still; the ever-present lust muted.

I clenched and unclenched my hands imprisoned in his larger ones, nervously biting my bottom lip. His eyes narrowed slightly.

He wanted me. _Again._

I wanted him, too. I wanted him more than anything, or _anyone_ else, I realized. Moreover, I didn't want to _lose_ him, again. He'd been _my Eric_ when he'd lived with me, and then he'd walked out the door after the Witch war without knowledge of our most intimate moments, our mutual revelations. Secretly, I had hoped that the intense feelings that we had shared would have survived the return of his memory, and I was a little miffed when he had looked at me without its familiarity. I should have been strong enough to tell him, then, that our relationship had changed, that I felt something special for him, and wanted to explore those feelings. However, fear of him having the upper hand had kept me silent, and I had waited and the memory of us had come to him months later, but did it still have the same significance that had had us once toying with the word _**love**_?

I wanted to believe so.

I had used the bond, without really knowing how, and I had brought us together, tonight, through my longing and need of him. He could have fought it, but he'd thrown caution to the winds, and come to me. I had said I wanted to be first, and he'd put me above everything, everyone, even himself. Wasn't that what I'd demanded of the others only to have them fall short of my expectations…yet, I'd never asked it of Eric and he'd offered it willingly. _Crazy Sookie-what took you so long! _

"Baby, let go," I whispered, and his hands fell away from mine and I reached for and framed his way-too-handsome-face in my hands, loving the rugged feel of him as always, my legs sliding down so that I could draw him even closer. I looked into his eyes, and I tried to get a handle on the fear. Again, I felt the sensation of calm reaching out to me, and taking a deep breath, I told him what he wanted to hear.

"Eric, I love you, but-" He didn't wait for the rest. I registered a glint of triumph in his eyes before his mouth came down hard on mine, taking my open lips as his tacit invitation. He stole my breath with his zeal before he gentled and the tenor of the kiss changed. With careful deliberation, he sucked my tongue into his mouth, slowly, degree by agonizing degree, deliciously stroking it, as he maneuvered himself onto the bed, pulling me down and away from the headboard, and nestling his huge body between my thighs. I closed my eyes enjoying the erotic sensation of his talented tongue as it played with mine, the salacious swirling, the titillating tugging which I felt much, much lower. _Yes, yes, yes._

When he lifted his mouth from mine, I couldn't stop myself from uttering the words again into the space that separated us. It was as if once they had been spoken, they felt the need to fly about with reckless abandon. "I love you. I love you. I love you," I intoned and felt a singular altering of something in our bond. It was both strange and beautiful, and totally foreign to anything I'd felt in it before now. Yet, I could not reason this out, as Eric sought with lips, tongue, teeth and hands to make every cell in my body aware of him and his rightful possession of me. His _heated_ rightful possession that is, as his body seemed to warm mid-kiss. Then all attempt at thought slid away, as he hauled me down into another kiss, that chased my words of love, as though he would take hold of them, and bind them to him forever.

I wrapped my arms about him, seeking to do some binding of my own while his hands roamed my skin finding erogenous zones known only to him. I ran my nails along his broad back, scoring a path to his buttocks, which I kneaded in pure hedonistic delight. I sank my nails into the bottom of each cheek, and raked them back over their hard muscular fullness. With a contented sigh, I rotated my hips into him, feeling his gracious plenty hard and heavy against my belly, and thigh. He groaned against my lips in response, and pleasure rolled into me, through the bond, dampening my skin and heightening my arousal, further drenching my core. I squeezed those glorious glutes and felt them quiver, bunching and releasing sharply, beneath my hands. _I absolutely loved his ass. _And Eric appeared to love me _loving his ass_, because as I squeezed a cherished cheek, his fair head fell back, his fangs ran down and a dangerous, guttural sound escaped his parted lips. He was beautiful, golden and dark, and he drove me near out of mind with lust for him. I leaned up and raked my teeth down his chin to his throat sucking at the muscular cords that stood out in relief, feeling them vibrate beneath my swollen lips as he made an incoherent noise, and rocked his hips hard into me. _Oh, oh, oh._

Gathering my strength, I rolled us, so that he lay on his back and I straddled him. The power was almost dizzying in that moment. The eyes that captured mine reflected a sensuous surprise, while he cottoned to his new position, easing me upward with his hands so that my breasts jiggled, just above his grinning lips. I had a second before he leaned forward and tipped the scales and touched his tongue to the tip of a breast, greedily sucking it into his mouth, with rough, deep, draws, that he tempered with soothing strokes of his tongue. The noise I made was strangled, and totally unladylike, as my head fell weakly forward and my hair curtained his head, my fingers gripping the sheets near his shoulders. His large hands swept upwards, cupping, and massaging my breasts as his mouth leapt from one swollen peak to the other, intent on destroying any sense of equilibrium or power I'd imagined, and drawing me closer to the edge. I, literally, leaned back, but he came with me on the bed, sitting up, and continuing his oral campaign on my breasts, and turning me into a quaking mass of sensations. In moments I began to feel that dulcet _give_ in my loins, the tiny ripples starting in my core and fanning outward after every concentrated tug. I closed my eyes…

"Look at me," he whispered._ Commanded_.

My eyes found his glowing ones and clung, haplessly, while my breath stuttered about in my lungs. He gave me a sudden wink, and caught a nipple up rolling it slowly against his bottom lip. One hand glided between us, and his thumb stroked my nub in an inhumanly quick side to side motion just as his teeth clamped down on my breast. Pain and bliss merged in that moment and rippled through me with a blinding sweetness, which shook me, and him.

Did I scream? I don't know; I couldn't hear a thing. I could just feel…

When the ability to hear again came rushing back at me as if through a tunnel, I opened my eyes to my smiling Viking, who was gently smoothing his hands along my spine, his chest rumbling against my breasts. He leant forward and licked my swollen lips-he was hungry, and I could taste it.

I shoved him backwards against the pillow, and his eyes danced. He chuckled as he waggled his eyebrows at me.

"My lover--" He began, and I bit down, not so gently, on his sensitive male nipple, and smiled as whatever he was going to say ended up in a hiss, that rushed harshly from his still chest. Now that I had his attention, I eased back, sucking the hard nub into my mouth with a strong tug, and circling it with my tongue. He moaned and one big hand slipped to the back of my head and held me in place. I shivered as I got that exhilarating sensation that pulsed from the bond when it began to amp up and reverberate with our feelings of lust, pleasure.

I moved swiftly to the other nipple and without preamble, I bit down, harder, not enough to draw blood, but hard enough to bring that thought, to the fore of his mind. It had the desired result.

"Sookie, Sookie," he moaned, his voice thickening, a tremor shooting through him into me. I knew it was sweet torture for him, and I bit again, pulling his nipple upward, working it with my tongue and teeth, as his hips surged forward, and he groaned. I reached down, and let my hand close on his gracious plenty, which rubbed incessantly against my thigh and hip. I stroked him once, and watched him as his eyes closed, and he bit down on his lower lip drawing blood. I ceased my mouth's punishment, but let my hand have free rein as I lowered my mouth to his, my tongue darting out to trace his extended fangs. His eyes flicked open, as I lapped at the droplets on his lips. His blood was sweet, and when he was excited like this, it was better than chocolate, and a natural aphrodisiac. Everything in me quickened, and my senses sharpened.

He smiled at me as only Eric can, and I felt a crazy grin form on my face. A wicked gleam lit his eyes, as his hands settled about my waist, and he pushed suggestively against my hand with his gracious plenty.

"Kiss me," he ground out, his voice a throaty whisper.

He didn't mean his lips.

I let my gaze leave his face and meander down our bodies, to where his penis pressed pointedly against my flesh. My eyes met his again, and I could swear they were darker, fiercer…But I was in control, and there was one thing I wanted to hear from him, and it was the same thing he'd demanded of me. Tit for tat; quid pro quo, and all that.

"Mmmm. Don't you have something to _**say**_ to me?" I teased, my heart standing still, belying my taunting voice. I waited. I had to know. I had to hear it, even though our bond beat wildly with it. I wanted the words, too.

He looked on, his eyes narrowing, his lips curling. "Stop teasing and fuck me?" he queried, a hint of laughter in his sexy, husky voice.


	8. Chapter 8

I MUST BE LIVING WRONG

Disclaimer: The characters found herein are the property of Charlaine Harris, and I make no claim toward them.

A/N: It has been a while since I have worked on this story. I completed the chapter a while back, but was not happy with a "soft" Eric. He has edge and that's part of his charm. For me, he is the conflicted character, no matter what. I hope you still "hear" him. BTW: Happy Release Day! Thanks for reading and there's more from "my" Eric.

**Excerpt from Chapter 7:**

_**"Mmmm. Don't you have something to say to me?" I teased, my heart standing still, belying my taunting voice. I waited. I had to know. I had to hear it, even though our bond beat wildly with it. I wanted the words, too.**_

**_He looked on, his eyes narrowing, his lips curling. "Stop teasing and fuck me?" he queried, a hint of laughter in his sexy, husky voice._**

Chapter 8

Well, it_ was_ what he wanted, he mused, chuckling unabashedly.

He _always _wanted Sookie to fuck him, and he didn't care if he was single-minded in this. He couldn't recall a time since he'd first laid eyes on her, when he hadn't wanted to sink his cock into the yielding heat of her, feel that sweet give of welcoming flesh, and lose himself in her eyes as she came apart, his name dark and urgent on her soft lips. In truth, he'd spent far too many _days_ and nights these last few years in lurid imaginings of the two of them doing just this in as many ways as he'd be inclined to have her. And they were countless. It made him harder just thinking about them.

Yes, he always wanted her, her taste, her touch, her decadent blood, even her unusual mind; for a human, she had surprising depth. She made him hungry for her in ways no other woman, and certainly no other human, could. He absolutely ached for the feel of her beautiful body wrapped about him, her soft mouth on him, lost in eager exploration, enjoying him, _all of him_. Thankfully, there were still hours left in this night…In quiet anticipation, he ran his tongue along his bottom lip, his gaze sweeping warmly over her, noting the gleam of her bare skin, her perfect round breasts, still rosy from his touch, his possession, his undeniable ownership._ His_. He couldn't stop his smile from deepening, his fangs from running lower when he caught the stormy rhythm of her heart, felt the deliberate breath she fought for and which set all that bountiful beauty into mesmerizing motion. She really should not blame him for a libido which she fed so wholeheartedly…

Apparently, she did not share the humor in his earlier response, as she leant over him, her kiss-swollen lips tightening slightly, her forehead creasing in a frown. Her fingers slipped along the rigid length of him, absently stroking, her eyes intent on his, the curtain of her hair throwing her face into shadow. If she kept that up, he thought, swallowing audibly, he'd say whatever she wanted, give her, whatever she desired, and then some. The movements of her fingers, the pad of her thumb, were pure paradise and he moaned roughly, unable to keep the sharp pangs of pleasure, which lanced through him, at bay, or his hips from thrusting ever so slightly. Her grip tightened, exponentially; his motion ceased. _Still not what she wanted to hear._

"You were saying," she prompted, her voice as Southern and as sultry, as he'd ever heard from her. There was nothing innocent in her tone, and he knew she was most assuredly aware of what she was doing to him, where she was leading him. She didn't need the increasing thrumming of the bond, to alert her. She held his eyes, and his dick, so that about covered it. Sookie was nothing, if not enterprising.

He _had_ to have her. Again. _Always._

And "_always"_ had terms. _Hers._ The problems this would cause in his world; had already caused, were unending. Many would never see her as an equal, and even his Child had regarded him with a measure of consternation, once upon a time, when she'd noted the power over his life, his happiness, this little blond telepath held. He had only wondered at it, awestruck, in spite of himself. He'd thought that it was only the pressing need to have more of her than just the unexpected excitement of stolen kisses, and had been caught totally off his game, when the emotional attachment had developed, which the blood-bond only enhanced. Now, she possessed his mind. And he would have said his soul, if it still existed in the manner that it did to humans. The philosophical argument was one for those who had little better to do with their time, and who were not, literally, in the grip of their future. For him, soul or no soul, he loved her. And he could love… desperately. Possessively.

He could love.

Even if the woman above him, whose forehead was creased with a frown, looked as though she didn't quite share that belief, he knew it with ever fiber of his body. Her doubts flooded the bond between them and it quivered with the question in her heart, her unvoiced fears. He wanted to erase them from her thoughts, her spirit. He wanted to dispel from her mind, the memory of Bill and his misplaced loyalties, and that treacherous tiger, Quinn, from whom he'd yet to collect his pound of flesh. But for his bonded, he'd be fashion accessories for Pam, even now… They had been weak, and had both repaid her loyalty and trust with betrayal, and heartache. He would be different. She had braved an exploding building for him. What would he not do for her? He _was_ different. He was stronger.

"Sookie," he murmured, his voice husky with hunger, emotion.

He reached for her hips as she went to move away from him, his hands gliding up to her waist, his long fingers fanning outward, his thumbs massaging gently, seeking to calm her. As she closed her eyes, he glimpsed the shimmer of tears. His chest tightened painfully. Damn! He hated when she cried. He sat up, his movement a blur, pulling her resisting body closer to his, growling as she released her intimate hold on him, yet enveloping her in his arms, and crushing the softness of her breasts to him. One hand went to the back of her head, entwining in the thick fall of her hair, as the other sought the sensitive small of her back. He leaned toward her, inhaling deeply, his nostrils flaring at the intoxicating scent of sex that lay heavy on her; he loved that, wanted more of it. He purred against her ear, seeking to distract her, from the cause of her tears.

"Open your eyes, lover," he whispered, his lips gently brushing the shell of her ear, her sensitive earlobe. She quivered deliciously in his arms, her breasts tightening perceptibly against his chest. _This was what eternity was for…_His fangs extended fully, as he rubbed his chest against her softness, groaning deep in his throat. _Always_.

She didn't open her eyes; Sookie was nearly as stubborn as he. _Nearly._ He gave her a light shake, tousling her hair, and sending her breasts in motion, again. Her eyes flickered open, wariness in their depths, but still that surprising fire, that intense blaze that kept him coming back, time after time. Would that fire eventually consume him? That was part of the attraction…the excitement…He grinned at her, and transmitted what he knew of warmth, and pleasure-which was a lot- across the bond to her.

"Lover, what would you have me say?" he asked, his fingers drifting up her body, floating along her ribcage.

"Eric, it doesn't matter. I should have known--" she started, attempting to pull away again, her breathing rough.

"You're right. You _should _have known. You should have known that I had feelings for you. I have told you that. I have also told you that I could love you and marry you. I have not lied to you."

Her eyes grew round, and she frowned deeper. _Would she quit with the infernal frowning!_

"You weren't yourself. Hallow …"

"I am always myself." His hands stilled; his eyes narrowed. That witch's name still managed to bring his sluggish blood to boil.

"Right! You are Eric, after all," she scoffed.

"Yes, I am. I am also your bonded, as you are mine. I told you that you would come to like it, being bonded to me, but you will come to _love_ it, as you love me, and I love you." Again, that almost imperceptible shift in the bond, the sense of something strengthening, and now expanding.

"What I was asking you has nothing to do with the damn bond and you know--" she stopped, and he watched as realization of what he'd said filtered through the veil of anger and doubt. He could practically see her mind churning away, almost hear the "click," as everything fell into place.

"_You_ love me?" she asked incredulously, her mouth agape.

Now it was his turn to frown. "Did I not say that I did? Have I not shown it, time and again?" He wanted to give her another shake, but quelled the urge with no small effort. "Either I love you, or I have taken complete and utter leave of my senses. Either way, I am on unfamiliar ground, and thought to be a lunatic or a heretic by my kind."

She arched an eyebrow at him, and tilted her head to the right, fixing him with what he considered, was her attempt at a piercing stare. He could feel her back stiffen beneath his hand. He braced for a fight. _Always._

"That's a backhanded way of saying you love me, you know, Eric. Why is it such a crazy thing to love me?"

"Backhanded?" He bristled. He closed his eyes and reined his temper in with effort.

"Yeah. Couldn't it all just be about us, and not the Bond?" she demanded.

He didn't need to breathe, but he took a measured, calming breath, and let himself remember that she'd been hurt, scarred even, by others who's professed to care for her. Her lifelong friends had misused her, and she'd been ill-treated by her own brother. Before him, only Adele had loved her for herself. It was easier to believe that there was something more powerful than any part of herself that would make someone love her. Especially him. His voice when he spoke was gentle, yet firm.

"Is that all you think this is about, Sookie? The magic of the blood-bond?" he asked.

"You do us both a disservice to believe this. The bond may bind us, true; even I do not know the extent of its hold, or how we are enhanced by it. However, I do know that I came here tonight, only for you."

His voice became thicker, his eyes boldly braving the depths of her soul. "I came here _because of_ _you_. And somehow I am certain, that I will always come for you, my lover. _Always._"

He leaned over, gently feathering his lips against hers, sealing his promise, willing her to believe him. He wanted this more, he realized, than he wanted her body, and that was quite an admission. Silence hung between them and for a moment, he didn't know what to think. He could just feel her trembling as if she were colder than she'd ever been in her life. Had he said the wrong thing, again? Had his vehemence frightened her?

He was unprepared when her arms went around his neck and she hugged him close, her cheek resting against his, the quiet fall of her tears, wetting his face, his name, a litany on her lips. He closed his eyes, and pulled her tighter, willing the moment to last, that feeling of euphoria bubbling up through the bond to never end. She was happy. Purely happy.

"Eric. Eric. You do love me," she told him, as she pulled back, and fixed him with an accusing stare. "But don't think that you get to tell me what to do all the time. I won't be controlled. I want a partner…"

He rolled his eyes. "Sookie, you're talking too much." His mouth closed over hers, as he got the conversation back to where it was twenty minutes ago.

II.

I was bone tired, and happy with it. Eric loved me and had loved me all night, and through most of the morning. I wouldn't be able to move for days! I didn't care though. I was starting over, and I was a little scared. I wanted to be enough for Eric, who lived as big as he was. He'd said that I excited him and I hoped I continued to do that, whatever it was for him.

Contentment swelled in me, and I smiled knowing it came from him, as he stirred behind me, his arm pulling me closer into his chest. A satisfied purr, rumbled through his chest, as he leaned down, pulling my hair back so that he could kiss my shoulder. Even in my exhausted state, it still had the power to arouse me, even if I couldn't do anything about it. I was so thankful in those moments of early morning for Eric; I wanted him never to leave.

"I love you," I told him, burrowing beneath the covers, and into him.

"As I love you," he murmured.

I fell asleep, for the first time in months without worrying about tomorrow and what new Supe would want to kick my ass, or shoot me. I had Eric at my back, literally, and I was going to be just fine.

My dreams that morning were not filled with quickies with Eric, but of dark and bloody deeds. There were vampires fighting and slashing at each other in the darkness, blood splattering the grass of what looked to be my front lawn. How dare they bring this fight to my home, again! Pam was there and Bill, Felicia and others from the bar and Area 5. They were snarling and fending off what looked like dozens of other vamps, and it was like a scene from Braveheart. Sort of. There would be no William Wallace racing across my lawn, at least, I didn't think so. I searched for my bonded. He was there; a lethal vision as he slashed away with a long sword in his right hand and dagger in his left. There was blood on both weapons and on his clothes, his face. Pieces of what looked like Victor lay at his feet, and he stepped over them to take a fighting stance in front of Felipe de Castro, the king, no less. Felipe raised his own sword and the clash of metal on metal brought me awake. I remember screaming. I was still screaming when I met the waking world.

I opened my eyes and Eric was gone.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: The characters found herein are the property of Charlaine Harris, and I make no claim toward them. **

**A/N: Thanks again for all your reviews and PM's. I do read all of them, and I love hearing your thoughts, especially as you take the time to **_**read**_** mine. **

Chapter 9

Reality settled slowly in about me. I was shaking something fierce, and for a long moment, I thought that I had just lived through a battle, and not just had the best night of my young life in the arms of the man who loved me, and whom I loved, in spite of myself. The violent vision left me confused and full of a sense of foreboding. I forced myself to take a deep calming breath, and my chest ached with the effort. When my heart stopped racing, I could feel Eric through the bond, his proximity, his deep contentment, and I knew that he was sleeping in the hidey-hole in the next room. Thankfully, he was not on my lawn, with Pam and his vamps, engaged in a swordfight for his life with the king. But had he been?

Even in the light of day, I was not so sure, and my eyes were drawn to my bedroom window, where the afternoon sun bounced lightly off the windowpanes. The compulsion to look was strong, and I threw back the bedcovers, and slowly swung my feet to the floor. After a marathon night with a libidinous Eric, I just didn't have the legs for rushing, even though I wanted to do so. However, I managed just fine. At the window, I carefully searched my lawn for remnants of the carnage I had witnessed, in what I was still convincing myself, was just a dream. I sighed heavily when all I noted about the grass was that it was still brown from the frost earlier this month. There were no greasy remains of Victor to be seen, and no dried blood splattered across the gravel in my driveway. Although it was not very Christian of me, I wished that that part of my dream had been a reality. If I knew anything, it was that Victor's intentions toward me were not good, and given the opportunity, he would use me in the worst way. I was not a fool, and I knew that Eric was the only thing standing between myself and the new Boogeyman. How long could my Viking keep the truly evil things away from me? I didn't want to know…not really.

I moved slowly away from the window, still troubled by the dream and my thoughts, and went to take a well-needed shower, hoping it would somehow wash away the dream's lingering unpleasantness. I noted the clock on the nightstand next to my bed, as I passed, and registered with a little surprise, that it was nearly three in the afternoon. It had been a long time, since I had had a legitimate reason to sleep in, and I had almost slept the day away. For the first time, since I had awakened, I let myself be truly happy about what, or rather who, had exhausted me so surely: Eric. He had stayed with me, instead of returning to Shreveport, although he had been obliged to fold himself into that uncomfortable space that had been made for a smaller man. Eric would wake later and assure me that the fight had been a dream and not some telepathic vision, and that we were both safe in his part of Louisiana. At least, that's what I was hoping for, and it went a long way to making me feel better. _Eric _went a long way to making me feel better. I made a mental note to myself that I wanted to wake up every day, having been exhausted by Eric the night and morning before. I just wondered if my body could take it. I smiled to myself, acknowledging what any red-blooded woman would when it came to Eric: the body was going to happily suffer through it all. Night after night.

Several hours later, I was lazily relaxing on the steps of my front porch, in a navy blue wool sweater, and my favorite pair of threadbare jeans. I'd washed my hair and it lay free and golden about my shoulders. I hadn't bothered with shoes, but I had two pair of wool socks on. I hadn't gone any further than my porch, today, and that was fine with me. I was on my second cup of hot chocolate and finishing up a warm slice of pecan pie that I'd found in my refrigerator. The sugar took the edge off my earlier nerves, and I was enjoying the brisk air, and the last hour of sunlight. The shadows were lengthening and the night was coming on. I had let the nightmare go. Well, not entirely, but enough to have some peace of mind. I felt good, really good. I found myself thinking, that despite my prior bout of unease, that this was the happiest I had been since before my grandmother's death. I didn't think that it was possible, and I wondered realistically how long it would last. I didn't want to anticipate the bad, but I knew it usually waited around the corner for me. Eric's simple reason for all the bad stuff in my life came once more to mind: _'You must be living wrong.'_ I wasn't sure if that was the cause of my pessimism, but I blamed a few rather intense beatdowns for my feelings. It was sort of like that line that you always hear at funerals, _'In the midst of life, we are in death.' _I always thought that that was the most depressing saying ever. It was sort of like, no matter what you did, you really couldn't win…I guess that's just my own interpretation.

Looking down, I flexed my feet, and stared unseeingly at my grey socks. I took another sip of chocolate and made myself concentrate on the good things in my life. I didn't have any bruises; I had Eric; I had a home, and some friends who cared about me. They might not be pleased with my choices, but they still cared. I didn't get much further on my list because a blue Impala interrupted the silence, when it pulled up in my driveway. I put my cup down slowly, but I remained seated as Bobby Burnham, Eric's daytime man, got out of his car, went around to the trunk, opened it and took something out before slamming it shut. Curious, but unwilling to delve into his mind, I watched as he approached me with two black leather suitcases in hand. Bobby was as pale as ever, and as lacking in personality. He didn't like me, and I wasn't wasting good manners on him. I didn't get up, and there was no welcome in my face. I even leaned back on my hands and looked up at the darkening sky, as a flock of birds passed high above. I didn't know what they were, but they were more interesting than Bobby.

"Evening, Miss Stackhouse," he said.

I nodded. "Bobby. Movin' in?"

I could see him struggle to keep his face blank, but he did nothing to still the shudder that racked his frame. Clearly, I was distasteful to Bobby. It was mutual. He was a sycophant, for sure, but he was a whiz at handling things during the day for Eric. In my opinion, Eric could do better in the major domo department. But no one had asked my opinion.

"No. My master asked me to bring these, today. I am to leave them with you. He will explain as soon as he awakes." _Oh, would he?_

I sat up a little straighter, and squinted at Eric's flunkey. "So, let me get this straight, Eric called you this morning, and told you to bring his clothes over?" My voice was sarcastic and rife with disbelief. I could see his cheeks turn red, as he flushed with anger.

"No. He left a note last night. I was to pack these in the event he was not in residence today."

_Not in residence?_ Well, he hadn't gone home, he was _in hidey-hole_. Leave it to Eric, to think, ever so arrogantly, ahead!

"Bobby, you can just go put those back in your car, and drive on back to Shreveport. Eric won't be needing them!" I told him disagreeably, as I was about to hop onto my high horse. Bobby closed his eyes and it looked as though he were trying to count to ten. He _was_ counting!

I sat back, ignoring him, again, and taking a few calming breaths myself. My high horse waited patiently. I was going to have a few words with the "Master," and soon. I glanced again at the sky; twilight had descended and Eric would be up soon. In the meantime, I had a few more words for Bobby.

"So, lover, am I to take it that you like me better naked?" said Eric from behind me.

I hadn't heard him come up behind me; he could move so silently, when he chose. Besides, I had been busy annoying Bobby, I hadn't _listened _for anything else. I jumped up and nearly out of my skin at his teasing voice. And then I was being lifted, as though I weighed nothing, to the porch, by large hands that spanned my waist. My stiff back was pulled up against a broad chest, as Eric settled me back against him, his thick arms wrapping gently around me. His long jean-clad legs bracketed my own, as he stepped into me, the bulge in his jeans pressed firmly against my back. I braced my hands against his thighs, as he buried his face in my hair, inhaling deeply. With his chin, he shifted my hair aside and his lips grazed the side of my neck, that little hollow behind my ear. My heart began to hammer away, and I could feel his lips curve into a smile against my skin, as I'm sure he heard it, felt it. Eric never played fair, and I was still undecided as to whether that was a fault or not. However, I had other things on my mind…

"Oh, no you don't, buddy--" I began.

Lifting his head, with the briefest of sighs, Eric interrupted me, as if I wasn't speaking. "Bobby, put those over there," he nodded toward the end of the porch, his beautiful blond hair falling in his face as he did so. He must have taken a moment to brush it, because it looked silky, and far too touchable. "If all else is in order, leave us. I will call you later, when I am… able." _Yes, there was a pregnant pause, if ever there was one, before that last word. _His cheek stroked my hair, and a distinct purr rumbled happily in his throat. I blushed scarlet, as I caught a whiff of Bobby's thoughts, which transmitted loudly across the short distance between us.

"Everything has been completed as you wished, Master," Bobby said formally, as he hastened to place the cases on the porch. He was all too ready to leave, as if he thought that if he lingered, he'd witness Eric and me bumping pelvises on the steps. He didn't look up, as he bowed to Eric, and I rolled my eyes.

"Good night, Master. Miss Stackhouse." _Pervert, _I thought back at him.

The moment he turned around in my drive, and drove away, I twisted in Eric's sweater-covered arms, so that I could see him. I got a glimpse of almost preternaturally burning blue eyes before he took advantage of the situation, immediately placing his cool lips on mine, and gently opening my mouth with his tongue. There was no petition, just a resumption of a previous claim, as he groaned deep in his chest and turned me fully about, without pausing in his innuendo laden perusal of my mouth. As if in emphasis, one large hand slid down to my behind, caressing and pressing me closer to the hard line of him. Maybe there was something to be said for Bobby's thoughts of Eric and I on the steps. I stopped thinking as he, rolled his tongue about mine in a roguishly erotic manner, which evoked images of us tossing about on satin sheets, lithe limbs twining, bare bodies straining to get closer… I could feel my toes begin to curl, and I tangled my fingers in his hair and held on, losing myself in the persuasive power of his truly gifted tongue, teeth, lips… Several long, remarkable moments later, he broke the kiss, his cool breath wafting gently across my heated lips. Somewhat disconcerted, I opened my eyes, and stared up into his rather pleased face.

"Hello, my lover. I have missed you," he offered, his voice thick, his hands shifting and sliding beneath the edge of my sweater, caressing the warm skin of my waist. I was still trying to string a thought, or two, together, remember my name. This man knew how to weaken me, take my breath. Bond or no bond, he got me.

"Hi, yourself," I managed, finally. He chuckled softly, as he stared into my eyes, seemingly amused and entranced by something he read there.

Raising one eyebrow, he asked quietly, "Dear one, now, what is the issue with our luggage?"

I gathered my scattered wits. I needed a little distance in order to think properly, and although every cell screamed against my actions, I pushed free of him, my sudden movement surprising him so much, that he let go, his hands sliding away, leaving my body bereft. From a few feet away, I looked up at him accusingly and pointed to the expensive leather bags on the porch.

"Exactly what are those for?"

"Clothing, shoes…" _Smart ass._

Not amused, I continued to glare at him in stony silence.

Nonplussed, he executed a feline stretch, which had my stomach tightening in response, before he relaxed his back against the white post to his right. I watched, transfixed, as he oozed sex appeal. He knew what the cling of his sweater did for his chest. If anybody knew, it was Eric. I swear he looked like he was posing for some shot in GQ-the Hot Vamp edition! _He was trying to distract me._ I had to look away, when he stroked his hand, nonchalantly, down his wool covered chest, the planes of his flat stomach, his thighs… but not before I caught his knowing smile.

"Eric, stop that. I'm serious. What's going on? Why do we need clothes? Are we going somewhere? When?" _Focus._

He met my eyes, briefly, guilelessly, before allowing his gaze to wander appreciatively down my body. "Yes, we are taking a short trip, and it is necessary to leave tonight."

"Tonight? Eric, I can't just pick up and go! I have a job; Sam depends upon me. When were you going to _ask_ me? And I hope you're prepared for a "no!" I could hear the panic in my voice, and I tried to calm myself.

"I would have asked you, last night. However, we had other things on our minds…I was…sidetracked. As for you saying no," he shrugged. "I hope you will not."

_Sidetracked, my ass_. "Where did _you _think I was going with you?"

"Sookie, we need a little time together, so we can discuss the implications of our bond." It wasn't what he said, that I didn't believe. I was worried about what he wasn't saying.

"Eric!" It was nearly a scream of frustration. "Don't bullshit me. Why can't we do that here? In Shreveport? What's the hurry? What aren't you telling me?"

He moved so quickly, he was a blur. In a blink, I was back in his arms. I yelped in surprise as his lips brushed my ear, and he whispered, his voice cool and commanding, "Relax, Sookie. There are things we must do. You must trust me, my lover. I will tell you everything, when I can. However, we leave this evening. It is arranged."

Now I was scared, and I took an obligatory step back. He released me, his hands sliding loosely to my hips, and I looked warily up at him. My dream rushed back, and suddenly it didn't seem so far-fetched, it seemed probable. When I would have spoken, he gave a negative shake of his head. I could not see his eyes, but I could feel a different urgency in him.

Suddenly his eyebrows arched in a familiar gesture of displeasure, as he lifted his face in the direction of the graveyard. He canted his head, inhaled, and I glimpsed his fangs run down. His face became stony. _What the…?_

"Sookie, are you all right?" Bill said, in his cold voice, from some point over my right shoulder.

For the first time that night, I felt the evening's chill. I, oh, so didn't need this right now.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: The characters found herein are the property of Charlaine Harris, and I make no claim toward them. **

A/N: Thanks for hanging in there with me. I think I mentioned that I'm an Ericaholic, but I never did say how I felt about Bill. I won't. I'll let Eric express that. Happy Memorial Day!-Again, my thanks for reading.

Chapter 10

It was times like these, that I regretted the turn that my life had taken. I missed those days when I could just sit outside and enjoy a southern night without ever worrying about anyone popping in out of nowhere. I was never popular; it was more like the opposite. No one had ever just stopped by in those days for the sole reason of enjoying my company. After all, I was crazy Sookie Stackhouse. Now, impromptu visitors were a staple for me. Between my fairy great-grandfather, vamps, somebody's minions, half-demons, weres, or a supposed stray dog, my home was destined to be the Grand Central Station of the Supe world.

In a way, it made sense that Eric didn't want to talk about something that had to do with Vamp business, out in the open. Some _thing_ could overhear him and then we'd be in the soup, again, or worse. I had to remember to make an effort to understand, before I jumped on my high horse and rode off to be slaughtered.

I dared to open my eyes and look up at Eric. I'd shut them when I'd realized that Bill was here, and that Eric was pissed. My hand went out to touch Eric's arm, and it was my turn to send him calming feelings. Surprised, he glanced down at me, his eyes fierce, feral even, his mouth an unforgiving line. I hoped that he noted the silent plea in my eyes. _Peace, please, _I begged.

Without breaking eye contact with me, he spoke into the darkness, his fangs glistening like white daggers. "Sookie does not require your assistance, Bill. Return to your home." Eric's accent was detectable, and that gave his words an emphasis that any who knew him, would have recognized.

Bill was not so easily dispatched. He spoke as if Eric hadn't issued an order. "If it's all the same to you, Eric, I'd like Sookie to answer. I heard _her_ scream. Are you alright, Sookie?" he insisted. This was a breech of protocol and even I recognized it. If Eric had said everything was fine, Bill didn't have the right to question him, no matter what our past relationship had been. I had learned that much in my limited dealings with Alpha vamps. My mind went back to the moments in the stairwell that had changed the path of my life, when Eric had questioned Andre's actions toward me. He had been much more canny, and respectful. Eric and I had both survived that night, as a result of his shrewdness. Bill was not so clever.

If Eric had looked stony before, he, now, looked like a storm about to break, something dark and unfathomably dangerous. The intense glare he directed at Bill was nothing short of murderous, and I believed that Bill had placed himself in a perilous position, and I felt us moving toward an inescapable moment. I didn't think, I stepped into Eric and reflexively, his arm came up about my waist drawing me closer. I swiveled to face Bill. With my other hand, I reached for Eric's large, cold, hand, that was clenched, claw-like at his side, and was rewarded with his fingers relaxing and closing gently about mine. Reassuringly. I felt a wave of pure love. If there was any microscopic cell in me, that doubted that Eric loved me, it ceased to exist. Eric loved me, and because of that, Bill would live another night.

Oblivious to the moment that passed between myself and Eric, Bill stood just below the steps of the porch, a part of the night in austere black, his handsome, white face a cold, relentless mask. His skin lay taut across his jaw, and his eyes were nearly as fierce as Eric's. Nearly. I made myself smile, and I'm afraid it was that crazy smile that I give when I'm nervous. I was nervous for Bill.

"I'm fine, Bill, really. Eric and I were just talking. He surprised me is all. You go on home."

Bill did not move, but glanced pointedly at the two of us, his dark eyes lingering on Eric's arm at my waist, our clasped hands, before flickering away to the luggage. When he trained his displeased gaze upwards again, it was only for me.

"Where are you going, Sookie?" _I'm already gone, Bill. Can't you see?_

"That's something Eric and I are talking about." I felt Eric's fingers dig into my waist. I shifted, uneasily.

"This is not your affair, Bill, and Sookie is not your concern, unless I tell you it is so." Eric's tone was all business and he'd gone swiftly from possessive lover to power-wielding Sheriff. I knew enough to be quiet. I didn't want to subvert his authority, even if I felt a twinge of pity for the defeated look in Bill's eyes.

"I apologize," Bill said, unapologetically to Eric. "Sookie, I am at your disposal, should you need me."

I was watching Eric, and he rolled his eyes, expressively.

I smiled once more at Bill. "Good night, Bill. Thank you. There's no need to worry; Eric'll take good care of me." I knew that I'd said the right thing, because Eric leant down and brushed his lips across my cheek, while his hand stroked the curve of my hip.

However, Eric wasn't finished with him, and he whispered to me, "Go inside out of the cold. I will join you inside, momentarily, my lover." I was being dismissed, and like any good coward, I tucked tail, and ran. I didn't even look back.

II.

He watched Sookie walk away, from the corner of his eyes, which had become dark slits in his white face. As the door closed behind her, he let slip the veneer of humanity, and the animal in him surfaced. To say that he was angry, was to belittle his true feelings. He bit his lip and tasted rage, black and delicious on his tongue. A low growl erupted from deep within his chest, and he shook back his thick mane of hair. He could rend Bill in two with his bare hands, and only the woman he'd come to love kept him from doing so. It may not always be the case, and the thought of that, sustained him. Insolence, and blatant challenge to his authority was not anything that he would tolerate and Bill needed to understand that.

He let fury flow through him, like sweet, hot blood, as he thought of Bill lurking about Sookie's home at night. He'd caught his scent when he'd arrived last night, but he'd had other things on his mind, claiming his lover, his bonded. Thinking back, he believed that Bill had been there, present amongst the shadows. Did he stay to listen, as he made love to Sookie, again and again? Had her screams brought him then? He could scarcely contain the fury that burned within him. Was Bill truly that masochistic? Tonight, Bill had known that he was there, and still he had ventured forth in challenge. He knew that he was ruthless. What was his angle?

When he moved, he was as swift as Death, and Bill was taken totally by surprise.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: The characters found herein are the property of Charlaine Harris, and I make no claim toward them. **

Chapter 11

There was no sound as his bare feet touched down with feline grace in the darkness behind Bill, his fangs ripping into the marble white, corded column of his neck, baring his thick jugular vein before slashing through it, spilling dark blood into the night. His nostrils flared, as violence raged in him, and his arms, like thick silver bands, circled and immobilized the smaller man, surprising him, crushing him. With a thrill, colder than the growing night, he listened as the arms he held, cracked like dry twigs beneath the tremendous pressure he exerted… the ribs, snapped, stabbing breathless lungs. He heard the gurgling, crippled cry that died on paling lips, and felt Bill's distress, as he struggled vainly against his death grip, his feet kicking, treading air, his torso twisting as he fought to extricate himself. The coppery, sweet scent of blood blanketed the rising breeze, and the beast in him rejoiced, as it tasted power, and clamored for final death. He snarled, his lips curling back over fully extended fangs, the desire to kill burning through him, thrilling him, nearly consuming him. He fought to rein himself in, even as he exercised his need to extinguish the ill-conceived insubordination.

He really wanted to kill Bill…

Instead, with another growl that careened off the trees, he took flight, easily hoisting his struggling burden, and drinking deeply from the gaping wound he'd made. Frigid February air rushed past them as they merged with the mounting darkness. Impatiently, the beast within slaked its thirst, forever marking its prey as _his_. He was resolute in the knowledge that there could be no challenges to his authority from his people, in the coming days, weeks, even if he must do this to safeguard against betrayal. Although Bill was a valuable earner, and warrior, when not trying to insinuate himself into Sookie's life and bed, he could cost him and his bonded their lives, and he would risk much, but not that, not now… He needed to indelibly reinforce the order of things for Bill and quell his outdated sense of antebellum chivalry, which could be their undoing.

And he still wanted to kill Bill.

Each cell was still on fire with the need to destroy, but he centered himself, as he'd done so many times in his existence, and focused on the big picture. Although he didn't need to breathe, he took a deep breath of sharp, cold air, and let it knife through his system, and as quickly as the killing rage had flowed into him, he let it edge its way out. He would not kill this night…he _would _not. With a thought, a mere shifting of will, he settled them down, effortlessly, in the cemetery, well beyond Sookie's property, amongst the shadows and the stones of the truly dead. He released Bill, who slipped to his knees in the damp grass, his arms dangling unnaturally at his side. He waited, almost dispassionately, watching the other man attempt to gather himself, make an effort to speak.

Bill's voice, when he found it, was a mangled croak, "You… don't love her, Eric. You tricked her… from… the beginning."

He shook his head in disbelief, and fought the urge to lash out again, and snap his neck, end this nonsense. A broken neck would heal, he reasoned, before squatting low in front of him, balancing easily on the balls of his bare white feet, his fingertips touching the cold earth below him. He lifted guileless jewel-blue-black eyes to Bill's pain-stricken, muddy brown ones.

"I am not accountable to you for my actions, Bill. I am _your _Sheriff. So, I tricked her in the beginning… with the bullet-sucking?" He shrugged negligently. "No one _paid_ _me_ for my pleasure, and pleasure, it was. Let's just say, I was…curious, and I wanted to know her. No matter…it is done. Understand, now, that she is lost to you, whether or not you believe that I love her-it is of no consequence to you."

Bill managed a snort, of what passed for derision._ Is he asking for his final death? Testing my restraint?_

"You will go home, Bill. And you will heal. _This time_. I make you no future promises, other than this one: I freely relinquish nothing that belongs to me …Sookie is mine." With understated irritation, he rose to his considerable height.

"She belongs to no one."

He laughed without humor, Bill's words again darkening his still dangerous mood. The beast demanded that he end it all, here and now. It was so tempting, and too easy. He glanced pointedly from Bill's face to his already mending throat. "Still fighting? We all belong to someone, and if you don't know that, you are a truly foolish man. You have much to learn, Bill Compton. She _is_ mine, and will always be mine. We are bound closer than you can comprehend. Will you continue to pursue her? Will this be the cause of your final death?"

"I would gladly die for her." _And so you shall…in time._

"And I will live for her. Who will be happiest? I know that you would die for Sookie, but for your sake, don't let it come to that. Hear me well, Bill, as there will be no second chances. At this moment, you serve my purposes by living, and serve you will. You will obey me, and respect the privacy of Sookie's home. When I am with her, there, in future, as I will be, I will not _see_ or _scent _you near. And if you should hear her scream, during such visits…" he paused, a cold smile playing across his lips, "…your help, will definitely, not be required. Now, my patience has worn thin, and you have wasted enough of my time. Leave me." His dismissal was final, as was his tone, and the discussion, as it were, was over.

Bill eyed him, darkly, for a long moment and he watched the waning of the spark of battle in his subordinate's eyes, the withering of that suicidal light, before he lowered his head. He hoped that he recognized, finally, how close he was to the end of his existence, how tenuous was his position. He watched as he came drunkenly to his feet, and nearly stumbled against a grey marble headstone. His white face was lined with pain, and he grimaced when his hand tried to grip the slick marble. Defeat clear in every line of his body, Bill braved his icy stare, once more, and he knew what it cost him to say, "I will obey." He refused to be moved. His acknowledgement was an imperceptible nod.

He lingered briefly, watching him stagger towards his home, through the maze of gravemarkers. There was no need to tarry, because he knew that he would obey; he was compelled to do so, the blood had sealed it. Yet, he remained, his mind churning away, again studying the angles, looking at every possibility that would govern Bill's actions. He wasn't convinced that love was the sole motivating factor, this night. Nothing could be overlooked, and he would come back to this, but later, when his emotions were less affected. With that thought, he allowed the power of the bond between himself and Sookie to fill him, the sound and feel of her heartbeat to sharpen and throb, a live thing within him, her feelings to rush over him, rich and tangled with anxiety. _Anxiety for_ _whom_? He frowned as he took to the sky for the brief flight to his beloved.

II.

I closed the door quickly behind me, even as I felt anger rise up in Eric like molten lava. I didn't want to think about how mad he was, but I couldn't help it. His feelings beat through the bond with a wild, intensifying rhythm. I couldn't separate his feelings from mine- I got angry, too. How dared Bill be so disrespectful! I slammed my fist against the back of the sofa, and as I did so, I could feel a swing in my emotions and somehow I knew that Eric was doing that thing he did to the bond that was like a damper; he was effectively shutting me out! My anger dulled and his feelings came to me in a muted form from that moment on, and I knew his anger was really worse than I'd imagined. Eric was over the top in most things, and this was no different. I was scared for Bill, but I forced myself to stay inside. I trusted Eric. I loved Eric.

I walked unsteadily to the kitchen, and took a TrueBlood out of the fridge and set it in the microwave for Eric. I made myself a cup of tea, hoping that the normalcy of the act would calm me, and take my mind off the confrontation between two angry male vamps on my lawn. The bell went off on the oven, and I jumped, my hand flying to my throat. I hated the weakness that I felt in that moment. With a little more vehemence than I wished, I placed the bottle on the table for Eric. Lifting my teacup, I began to pace, as the tea cooled, untouched in my hands. Eric would punish Bill, I knew. It was their way; he was Vampire and I wasn't entirely naïve. Not anymore. How he'd punish him, I didn't know; there was the rub. I just wanted it to be over, and so I waited, pacing near the sink, while the minutes passed slowly, or so it seemed to me.

I knew when Eric's anger receded, because the bond between us quickened with warm emotion again, and I sat down at the table, my legs momentarily weakened. A few minutes later, I heard him enter the front door, and drop what I believed to be the luggage, in the other room. I imagined his quick glance around for me. In the next instant, he filled the doorway of the kitchen, our eyes meeting across the well-lit room, mine discerning the dark remnants of anger in his, and… nothing else.

"Eric?" I felt awkward, unsure.

He paused in the doorway, his face implacable, his hair wind-tossed, beautiful and wild, his shoulders stiff, tense.

"Yes, my lover." His voice was cool.

"Has Bill left?"

"Yes." Cold. Colder than before.

"Thank you, Eric." I tried to pour my sincere feeling of thanks into the words, even as Eric seemed to lose patience with it all, his face becoming even more rigid.

"He lives, Sookie. Somehow, he is not as grateful of this fact as you are." I was alert to the censure in his tone. I tried not to bristle. He walked over to the table, picked up the bottle of TrueBlood, glanced at the label, and took a long drink, his eyes holding mine.

"Oh," and that word held a wealth of meaning, as it hung there between us. "It's just going to take him some time to get used to us." _Who was she kidding? Bill would never accept Eric as her lover, and bonded. _The chagrined expression in Eric's eyes mirrored her thoughts, as he lowered the bottle.

"Lurking amongst the shadows will not help him in this, and I assured him that this was unwelcome… and unwise. He knows that I will not tolerate further opposition to my authority."

I took a deep breath, and looked into my forgotten teacup, as I listened to the Sheriff of Area 5. His voice was like the business end of a sharp knife, all cold and dangerous. Anxious to have _my _Eric back, I faced him boldly, and said as earnestly as I could, "He'll just have to get on with his life, Eric. I don't want to be the cause of any more problems between you…"

"Sookie," he shook his head, closing his eyes briefly, "do not worry about Bill. I am his Sheriff and he will obey me. There is no other choice. You, on the other hand, have a choice, bond or no bond. You may trust me, or not." He was matter-of-fact, but I heard the fine edge in his voice. He looked thoughtful for a moment, before fixing me with a measuring stare. "What do _you_ want, Sookie?" he persisted, his voice quiet, disturbingly so.

I took the opportunity to navigate away from the volatile subject of my ex, as I clutched the edge of the table with my hands. "Well, I don't want you organizing my life for me, Eric. You have to talk to me, and not just make decisions for me, o.k.?"

"That is what you do not want-I will make an effort to _not_ organize your life, my lover," he assured me. My eyes narrowed slightly. Eric was forever a politician; he hadn't really agreed at all. Effort, my ass!

"What do you want?" It really sounded like _who _do you want…

"I want you to know that I trust you and I want to be with you, and that last night meant everything to me. As much as possible, I want you to talk to me about things that concern me-us, and not hear about them through Bobby. It may be petty of me, but he doesn't like me, and I don't really care for him at all, either. I know you've had a lot of years to get used to doing things your way, but this is just who I am-I can't change that. I won't." I'd gotten it all out, but I think I blew the effect with that crazy smile I do when I'm nervous. I couldn't help it.

Eric sat down in the chair across from me, stretching his long jean-clad legs out before him, and something akin to a sigh escaped him. "We are going to Europe," he whispered, his eyes unreadable, as he placed the bottle on the table before him. "That is," he added, "if you _choose_ to go with me. You may decline, but I hope that you do not." His lips tightened and it was obvious, that this concession was difficult for him. Eric was the ultimate control freak.

"Alright," I told him, relaxing my hands atop the table. I took a breath. "You said earlier, that it would be a short trip. How long _is_ short?"

He made a dismissive gesture with his hand, and his brows drew together, a sure measure of his growing displeasure. "Short," was all he offered once more.

"Did you get someone to work, in my place, for Sam?" He clenched his jaw. I couldn't keep a rival out of the conversation, I guess.

"Yes. He wishes you to call him before we leave." His appraisal was deceptively nonchalant. He was wired and I didn't need the bond to discern it.

I wanted to roll my eyes, but I thought better of it. "I guess you've seen to everything. If you need me, and you think it'll help us, then yes, I'll go with you," I agreed. I wanted to…I had to…

Immediately, I could sense the air of victory in him, and with it came an easing of his tense shoulders, an ebbing of his residual anger. You could have knocked me over with a feather when he said, "Thank you," and I knew he meant it. He reached across the table and took my hand, tugging me to my feet. I rose and rounded the table to him, and he pulled me gently down into his lap, resting his head against my breasts. A little dizzy with the quicksilver quality of his emotions, I ran my fingers through his damp hair, pressing him closer, feeling something shift within him, right itself.

"Eric, is everything o.k.?" That feeling of impending danger and another struggle for survival crept over me.

"It will be," he said, his arm settling across my thighs. He inhaled deeply, as he rubbed his cheek against the softness of my sweater. "We must get ready to leave; the car will be here shortly, but-" He lifted his head, and his eyes met mine, and they were anything but focused on leaving. They were smoldering, hungry, and the blue was dark, depthless…I couldn't keep up with him! He pressed cool lips against the underside of my jaw, heating the blood beneath them, before they swept gently down my exposed throat, softer and gentler than I could ever remember. It was the gentleness that moved me, especially after the anger, the turmoil…This man was a study in contradictions…I made a noise of mixed wonder and pleasure, even as he lifted me, coming to his feet in one swift move.

My back was pressed against the wall in the next second, and his cool mouth was on mine, and every thought I had was wiped away. No glamour was more effective, no spell could be more binding than this impulsive, gifted man. I could feel his urgency, that quick flare of desire that leapt hotly in him and sparked through the bond, yet with unsettling patience, he drew my lower lip between his, his tongue following its contours. I squirmed against him, my hands rushing into his thick hair, pulling him closer, as he deepened the kiss on a mouth-watering groan. His hands skimmed my throat, my shoulders, cupped my breasts, his touch, tender… _loving_. His long index fingers and thumbs stroked the tips of my breasts, before pinching them gently, plucking them until they ached for more, until I moaned into his mouth, trembled against his tongue.

"I want you…now." His voice shimmered along my spine, its husky tremor, heating my skin, melting my insides, his excitement, a tangible thing, stirring the air, stirring me.

I hadn't realized that I'd closed my eyes, but I opened them, and let the impossible blue of his wash over me, caress me. I was left with no doubt in my mind at that instant that I was his and by some trick of fate, he was mine. It didn't make sense in a normal way, but in my world, where few things were likely to be normal, it was the only thing that did.

My lips found his throat, and I bit gently against its base, felt a deep groan, rumble through him. I did it again, harder, and he whispered my name, his fingers digging into my behind, scraping along the back of my thigh, my leg…I tightened them about him, while he ground his hips forward into mine.

I was already in that place where he took me, where the edges started to blur, and everything got all fuzzy. He was inching my sweater upwards, the deft fingers of both hands stroking my sides, my quivering stomach, while my heart knocked steadily against my ribs, its beat, loud and insistent. Our bond came fully alive and I was trembling, as his hands continued upwards, my breath escaping in little gasps.

His tongue dipped into my ear, his breath curling deliciously against the shell. When he bit down on the lobe, I felt moisture douse my core.

"Eric…Eric…" My heart went crazy again…I pulled him closer. He pulled away, and my eyes flew open.

"Damn!" he muttered, and seeing my bewilderment, he cupped my face, his touch strangely reassuring. "Our driver's here-we must go." So that knocking noise had been the door! I wanted to swear something awful.

"Right now? He can't wait, maybe ten minutes or something?" I didn't care if I was whining, every nerve in my body was keyed to him, and the promise of pleasure his hard body alluded to.

He shook his head, his mouth tight, and I knew he was fighting for control. His half-lidded eyes searched mine, and he whispered, "I'll make it up to you, my lover. But now, we must go."


End file.
